


Lucky

by RatOuttaHell



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Author Was High While Writing This, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatOuttaHell/pseuds/RatOuttaHell
Summary: Roadhog and Junkrat smoke weed in the Outback. Junkrat uses Roadhog as a jungle gym. Roadhog thinks Junkrat is nasty. They both love each other.





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! so I've wanted to write a "roadhog and junkrat get high" fic for a long time now, and I figured that since I was done with "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" I might as well write it now! with this fic, I only made one rule for myself: I could only write it while I was high. I *did* edit it sober, but some of it's probably still questionable. also, it's short, because it's really hard to focus on writing when you're high. enjoy!

Junkrat was disgusting. Sweaty, dirty, covered in gunpowder and ash. Streaked with dry desert dirt. Needed a bath five times as often as he got one. He did some pretty gross shit, too - Roadhog had recently caught him picking his nose with his absurdly long tongue (Roadhog had threatened “no kissing unless you cut that out” on that one). Whatever angle you looked at it, Junkrat was gross. And that fact didn’t change when he got high. 

“Rat,” said Roadhog, trying to catch a glimpse of Junkrat in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t see much but the burnt tips of Junkrat’s hair past his mask. Still, he could feel Junkrat’s hands gripping onto his upper arm, hoisting himself up towards Roadhog’s face. It wasn’t until he felt a glob of something land on his skin that Roadhog shook the scrawny man off. He brought a large hand to the side of his mask and grimaced. 

“This spit?” he asked. He didn’t even wait for Junkrat’s response as he wiped off his hand on his overalls. “Were you licking my mask?” He looked down at Junkrat, who was grinning lazily from where he was sprawled on the ground. 

“Yeah, mate,” he said. His eyes were so bloodshot he almost looked like a demon. The thought of dehydration had actually made Roadhog think twice before they decided to smoke. They didn’t get nearly enough water to wander the Outback in anything less than a dehydrated state. Roadhog honestly shouldn’t have paid heed to Junkrat’s gesturing to the multitude of prickly pears that surrounded their little makeshift shack, but he really, really wanted to get high. The trading post they’d hit up had come with a lot more trouble than they’d expected, but finding the owner’s considerable stash in the back of the shop had almost made the whole ordeal worth it. This, Roadhog reminded Junkrat, was why they waited to burn shit down sometimes.

“Why’re you licking my mask?” he asked Junkrat, who had climbed back up his shoulder and was probably back to tonguing the leather. 

“‘Cause you won’t take it off ’n’ let me lick yer face,” said Junkrat. Roadhog swiveled his head around to get a look at his shithead boyfriend. Junkrat had extended his tongue and was about to make contact with Roadhog’s mask again when Roadhog intercepted it with his hand. His palm was treated to a wet, slimy mass of muscle. Junkrat moaned in discontent. 

“Don’t want you lickin’ my face either, Rat,” said Roadhog. Everything seemed slow right now, his own voice a snail-creeping rumble. The tongue was still pushing against his palm like some kind of determined earthworm. He rolled his eyes and gave Junkrat a light push, sending him sprawling across the ground again, a bit of dust kicking up from the baked dirt. Haha.  _ Baked _ dirt. Junkrat  _ was _ baked dirt. 

It seemed like hours that Junkrat was lying there on the ground, motionless. Roadhog was starting to worry that he had sent Rat to his doom down below when Junkrat just looked up, slowly grinned, and laughed. God, that laugh could be such a relief sometimes. 

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” giggled Junkrat. He extended his hand, which Roadhog took and used to lift his scrawny companion off the ground like a sack of feathers.  

“And now I’m up!” said Junkrat, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. But then, he laughed at everything like it was the funniest thing in the world. This time, though, Roadhog was right with him, low chuckles bubbling up from his belly. He didn’t know why it was funny - well, logically, he knew it was because he was high - it just  _ was _ . Because Junkrat had said that he couldn’t get up and then he did. And now was climbing on Roadhog’s shoulder again. But this time, he didn’t lick the mask. He put his mouth directly against Roadhog’s ear and whispered. 

“Roadie,” he whispered. Roadhog grunted in reply. “I’m really high.” 

“Not a secret, Rat,” said Roadhog, smiling under his mask. Junkrat must’ve known that he was smiling - he always seemed to know nowadays - because he grinned bigger and poked him in the cheek. 

“’N’ I’m thirsty,” he said. Roadhog snorted at him and wordlessly gestured to the multitude of purple-pink cactus pears around them. 

“I haaaaaaaaaaate those things,” whined Junkrat.

“Yer the one who suggested it,” said Roadhog. 

“Yeah, because I wanted to get high, not ‘cause it was a good idea!” Roadhog made another sweeping gesture towards the fruits. Junkrat sighed in defeat. 

“Foine,” he said. The way he climbed down from Roadhog’s shoulder was not entirely un-monkeylike. It didn’t occur to Roadhog that the cacti had thorns until he heard Junkrat yelp from near a cactus behind him. Roadhog huffed, then turned and walked towards his boss’s crouched body. It felt like miles before he got to Junkrat, who was attempting to get the thorns out of his hand using only his teeth. His  _ left _ hand, because the high bastard had decided to reach for the fruit using  _ that  _ one. 

“Be careful,” chided Roadhog (halfheartedly, because it was too late, anyway). Then, contrary to his previous statement, he took the cactus fruit Junkrat had dropped in his hand. The needles couldn’t even pierce his tough skin. Roadhog rummaged around in his pockets for a second before finding a very small, but very sharp, knife. Carefully as he could (which was still pretty careful, in spite of his low sobriety status) he peeled the fruit with the knife and returned it to Junkrat, who had now removed most of the thorns from his palm. 

“My hero,” crooned Junkrat. He kissed Roadhog’s hand before devouring the fruit like a man on the brink of starvation. Lucklily for both of them, Junkrat’s weed-filled brain was better at dealing with food textures, else he might’ve thrown it all back up. Instead he ripped the fruit apart, bright red juice dripping down his chin like blood. Disgusting, adorable little man. 

 

As the night quickly settled in, Junkrat huddled up close to Roadhog to share one large, grey blanket. They stared up at the sky through what Roadhog always swore was a faint tinge of green leftover from the meltdown at the Omnium. Junkrat said he was full of shit, but how would he know? Not like he would remember. Tonight, though, staring up at the sky, all Roadhog could think was how beautiful the stars were. Junkrat’s mind was, apparently, on other things. 

“Hey, Roadie,” he said. Roadhog grunted so Rat would know he was listening. Junkrat would usually keep talking whether or not there was a response stimulus, but with how high he was right now, he might completely forget he was even talking if Roadhog didn’t reply somehow.

“Roadie,” said Junkrat again. “Roadie, do you ever think?” Was that… really the end of the question? Sure sounded like it. Roadhog snorted a laugh.

“Plenty,” he said, “How ’bout you?” Growling, Junkrat lightly smacked Roadhog on the leg. 

“Wait for me to finish, ya bastard!” He wasn’t done? It definitely sounded like he was. Junkrat shook his head from side to side, but then seemed to get lost in the gesture and continued shaking his head until Roadhog poked him in the ribs. 

“Roight,” he said. “Do you ever think about what we’re gonna do once we,” he struggled for words, “once we get outta this wasteland?” 

“’Course,” said Roadhog. “We’ve talked about it.” 

“Not finished the question,” said Junkrat. “Yeah, we’ve talked about it before. Travel the world, steal what we can, blow shit up, kill anyone who gets in our way. Become the King of Mayhem and… well, the other King of Mayhem. Issa good plan. Best plan.” He smiled and sighed dopily. 

“Yer question, Rat?” grunted Roadhog. Usually he would’ve been getting ticked right now, waiting around for Junkrat to finish his goddamn question. But, wow, weren’t those stars beautiful? Looked like… little diamonds in the sky. Like that kids’ song about the stars. Heh. Roadhog hadn’t heard that one in a while. He wondered how it was doing. Junkrat turned, bracing himself on Roadhog’s chest with both hands and staring up at the mask. Even through the tinted lenses Roadhog could see that his eyes were still bloodshot to hell and back. It was hilarious, but also Roadhog was pretty sure he was going to have to get Junkrat another cactus fruit for hydration, and he wasn’t into the idea of moving right now. 

Junkrat’s gaze, though bloodshot, was intense even through the glass of the mask and haze of pot. 

“I mean, what about when we’re getting old?” asked Junkrat. He paused and then, when Roadhog didn’t say anything, added, “Oh, roight. End of question.” 

“’M already gettin’ old,” said Roadhog. 

“Hushhhhhh, hushhhhhh,” said Junkrat, pressing a finger to the snout on his mask as if shushing it. Roadhog thought of Junkrat’s slimy, disgusting tongue and wished he could lick Junkrat’s finger in retaliation. It didn’t matter, though; the finger didn’t actually do anything to keep him from talking. Or woulldn’t’ve, if he had anything to say. 

“So when we get old,” continued Junkrat as if Roadhog hasn’t said anything at all. “What’re we gonna do? I’m never gonna give up blowing shit up, but we can’t keep world-touring forever. Too hard on our backs. What’re we gonna do when we get old?” 

“What do you want to do?” asked Roadhog. 

“Keep world-touring is what I want,” he said, laughing that ear-splitting laugh that Roadhog had fallen in love with over the past few months. Then he considered for a moment. “I wanna live in a town. With a junkyard. With our junkyard. And we’ll sit outside by the junkyard and kiss and grow old together and die. Christ, but what if you die first, though? What’ll I do then?” 

Normally, this is where Roadhog would’ve pointed out that he would almost definitely die before Junkrat, then Junkrat would yell at him to shut up and then cuddle closer to his bodyguard/boyfriend crying and Roadhog would have wondered why he mentioned it at all, but Rat had to face it sometime. This wasn’t that time, though. The thought, too unpleasant for Junkrat to even process while this high, probably would’ve slipped right through, barely brushing Junkrat’s brain in the process. As it was, he seemed to have already forgotten his fears, and was busily pushing himself up onto Roadhog’s shoulders. Speaking of getting old, this couldn’t be great for Roadhog’s back. Plus, Junkrat’s metal fingers were sinking painfully into Roadhog’s flesh. 

“What’re you doing?” he asked, mildly irritated. 

“Gettin’ a better angle,” said Junkrat sing-songily. 

“For what?” 

“This,” Junkrat started off sweetly enough, with little pecks and smooches covering the side of his mask. But it devolved quickly until Junkrat succumbed to his natural instincts and began licking the damn thing again. Roadhog pulled back his mask and kissed Junkrat full on the mouth, just to get him to stop. And, okay, okay, because maybe the mask-licking thing was kind of cute in a very Junkrat sort of way. 

Junkrat’s eyes went wide at the sight of Roadhog’s face. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before, but each time he acted like it was the first time. For some people, this probably would’ve meant a flick of the eyes up and down before deciding that Roadhog was kind of ugly and moving on. But for Junkrat, it was like this process of glorious rediscovery every time. Usually he crooned over how handsome his boyfriend was, how beautiful, how cute and rugged and a million other things Roadhog always had trouble believing. Every scar, every pockmark, every scruffy hair - Junkrat sang their praises. This time, though, his mouth was occupied with other things. Still, as his eyes began to close, he reached up with his left hand and began to explore the features of Roadhog’s face. Roadhog broke off the kiss and Junkrat melted into his lap like a puddle of goo. Good, thought Roadhog. That’d keep Junkrat off his--

“Cut that out!” he shouted as Junkrat craned his neck to lick Roadhog’s bare cheek. Firmly but gently, he pushed Junkrat away with a large hand, pulling his mask back over his face. Junkrat giggled all the while, looping his arms around Roadhog’s neck and planting a kiss there. Junkrat was always anxious about Roadhog leaving him, always saying that he was lucky to have someone like Roadhog with him. But Roadhog knew that he was the really lucky one, to have Junkrat with him. 

Junkrat settled in against Roadhog’s chest, and, before Roadhog had even noticed he was asleep, began to snore. Roadhog smiled and looked back up at the stars again, his arm wrapped around Junkrat’s shoulders. 

He was so, so lucky. 

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm planning on starting the companion/sequel to "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" soon, but I hope this nice little fic tides you over until that (undetermined) time!


End file.
